James Salter - Dusk and Other Stories

Christopher slapped aimlessly at the sand with his shovel. He looked up and saw Robbie. “Do you want to build a castle?” he asked innocently.

“Sure,” Robbie said after a moment. “Come on, let’s go down a little further, closer to the water. Then we can have a moat. Do you want to help us build a castle?” he said to Truus.

“No,” Christopher said, “she can’t.”

“Sure, she can. She’s going to do a very important part of it for us.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.” They were walking down the velvety slope dampened by the tide.

“What’s your name?” Christopher asked.

“Robbie. Here’s a good place.” He kneeled and began scooping out large handfuls of sand.

“Do you have a penis?”

“Sure.”

“I do, too,” Christopher said.

She was preparing his dinner while he played outside on the terrace, banging on the slate with his shovel. It was hot. Her clothes were sticking to her and there was moisture on her upper lip, but afterward she would go up and shower. She had a room on the second floor—not the one Mrs. Pence had—a small guest room painted white with a crude patch on the door where the original lock had been removed. Just outside the window were trees and the thick hedge of the neighboring house. The room faced south and caught the breeze. Often in the morning Christopher would crawl into her bed, his legs cool and hair a little sour-smelling. The room was filled with molten light. She could feel sand in the sheets, the merest trace of it. She turned her head sleepily to look at her watch on the night table. Not yet six. The first birds were singing. Beside her, eyes closed, mouth parted to reveal a row of small teeth, lay this perfect boy.

He had begun digging in the border of flowers. He was piling dirt on the edge of the terrace.

“Don’t, you’ll hurt them,” Truus said. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to put you up in the tree, the one by the shed.”

The telephone was ringing. Gloria picked it up in the other part of the house. After a moment, “It’s for you,” she called.

“Hello?” Truus said.

“Hi.” It was Robbie.

“Hello,” she said. She couldn’t tell if Gloria had hung up. Then she heard a click.

“Are you going to be able to meet me tonight?”

“Yes, I can meet you,” she said. Her heart felt extraordinarily light.

Christopher had begun to scrape his shovel across the screen. “Excuse me,” she said, putting her hand over the mouthpiece. “Stop that,” she commanded.

She turned to him after she hung up. He was watching from the door. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No.”

“Come, let’s wash your hands.”

“Why are you going out?”

“Just for fun. Come on.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, stop, will you?”

That night the air was still. The heat spread over one immediately, like a flush. In the thunderous cool of the Laundry, past the darkened station, they sat near the bar which was lined with men. It was noisy and crowded. Every so often someone passing by would say hello.

“Some zoo, huh?” Robbie said.

Gloria came there often, she knew.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Beer,” she said.

There were at least twenty men at the bar. She was aware of occasional glances.

“You know, you don’t look bad in a bathing suit,” Robbie said.

The opposite, she felt, was true.

“Have you ever thought of taking off a few pounds?” he said. He had a calm, unhurried way of speaking. “It could really help you.”

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“Have you ever thought of modeling?”

She would not look at him.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You have a nice face.”

“I’m not quite a model,” she murmured.

“That’s not the only thing. You also have a very nice ass, you don’t mind me saying that?”

She shook her head.

Later they drove past large, dark houses and down a road which unexpectedly opened at the end like the vista she knew was somehow opening to her. There were gently rolling fields and distant lights. A street sign saying Egypt Lane—she was too dizzy to read it—floated for an instant in the headlights.

“Do you know where we are?”

“No,” she said.

“That’s the Maidstone Club.”

They crossed a small bridge and went on. Finally they turned into a driveway. She could hear the ocean when he shut off the ignition. There were two other cars parked nearby.

“Is someone here?”

“No, they’re all asleep,” he whispered.

They walked on the grass to the other side of the house. His room was in a kind of annex. There was a smell of dampness. The dresser was strewn with clothes, shaving gear, magazines. She saw all this vaguely when he struck a match to light a candle.

“Are you sure no one’s here?” she said.

“Don’t worry.”

It was all a little clumsy. Afterward they showered together.

There was almost nothing on the menu Gloria was interested in eating.

“What are you going to have?” she said.

“Crab salad,” Ned said.

“I think I’ll have the avocado,” she decided.

The waiter took the menus.

“A pharmaceutical company, you say?”

“I think he works for some big one,” she said.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know. It’s in Saudi Arabia.”

“Saudi Arabia?” he said doubtfully.

“That’s where all the money is, isn’t it?” she said. “It certainly isn’t here.”

“How’d she meet this fellow?”

“Picked him up, I think.”

“Typical,” he said. He pushed his rimless glasses higher on his nose with one finger. He was wearing a string sweater with the sleeves pulled up. His hair was faded by the sun. He looked very boyish and handsome. He was thirty-three and had never been married. There were only two things wrong with him: his mother had all the money in a trust, and his back. Something was wrong with it. He had terrible spasms and sometimes had to lie for hours on the floor.

“Well, I’m sure he knows she’s just a babysitter. He’s here on vacation. I hope he doesn’t break her heart,” Gloria said. “Actually, I’m glad he showed up. It’s better for Christopher. She’s less likely to return the erotic feelings he has for her.”

“The what?”

“Believe me, I’m not imagining it.”

“Oh, come on, Gloria.”

“There’s something going on. Maybe she doesn’t know it. He’s in her bed all the time.”

“He’s only five.”

“They can have erections at five,” Gloria said.

“Oh, really.”

“Darling, I’ve seen him with them.”

“At five?”

“You’d be surprised,” she said. “They’re born with them. You just don’t remember, that’s all.”

She did not become lovesick, she did not brood. She was more silent in the weeks that followed but also more settled, not particularly sad. In the flat-heeled shoes which gave her a slightly dumpy appearance she went shopping as usual. The thought even crossed Gloria’s mind that she might be pregnant.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“Darling, do you feel all right? You know what I mean.”

There were times when the two of them came back from the beach and Truus patiently brushed the sand from Christopher’s feet that Gloria felt great sympathy for her and understood why she was quiet. How much of fate lay in one’s appearance! Truus’ face seemed empty, without expression, except when she was playing with Christopher and then it brightened. She was so like a child anyway, a bulky child, an unimaginative playmate who in the course of things would be forgotten. And the foolishness of her dreams! She wanted to become a fashion designer, she said one day. She was interested in designing clothes.